


Incredible Humans

by Odium333



Category: Sex Education (TV)
Genre: ...like genuinely it’s insane, Adam Groff Needs A Hug, Angst, Child Abuse, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mr Groff’s Bad Parenting, Otis Milburn Is A Good Friend, Physical Abuse, long sentences, mentions of past bullying, whoops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22616536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Odium333/pseuds/Odium333
Summary: Adam wasn’t exactly the perfect person, he was rough around the edges- probably a little more than rough more a jagged, chipped side that Eric felt dangerously close to cutting himself on. But at times like these, Adam seemed remarkably human.
Relationships: Adam Groff & Otis Milburn, Eric Effiong & Adam Groff, Eric Effiong & Otis Milburn, Eric Effiong/Adam Groff
Comments: 2
Kudos: 105





	Incredible Humans

Eric knew, the whole school probably knew- it wasn’t exactly Moordale’s best kept secret, that Adam and his father did not get along.

There was the dance, a split second of emotion so raw andwild that for a moment it seemed that no one could breath, and then Adam’s eyes froze and the hatred melted into something bitter and fearful.

Sometimes, when Eric thought back to the moment of turmoil in the blue lit room that stank of sweat and whatever alcohol Jackson had managed to sneak, he felt a deep lingering sickness; even in his worst moments with his father, he knew that his father loved him, the lack of understanding and communication had never sullied the love that his family had for one another.

Mr Groff did not seem like that type of man, Adam probably knew that all too well. Even as a teacher the man was cold and sometimes if you passed his office at the right time you could hear him yelling- there were brief flickers of phrases ‘failure’ ‘disappointment’.

Maybe that’s why on that dance floor Adam had flickered from something so hateful to a deep regret, bordering on fear.

But here they were, Adam didn’t even live with his Dad anymore and his mother was a hell of a lot better (the one time Eric had met her she seemed to be the exact opposite of her ex-husbands icy disconnection from their son).

Sat on Eric’s bed, inches apart- Adam never got any closer when the situation may turn intimate ( Eric didn’t mind as long as they could hold each others hands).

Some dumb movie was playing on his laptop, in the blue light of the screen Adam looked younger, his face had relaxed, slackened with a childish amusement that was so rare on the face of someone so tense.

For once, Eric thought, it was calm. Then it wasn’t.

The door swung open and his Dad stepped in, a warning of the clearly stated ‘door open’ rule dying on his lips at Adam’s reaction.

The taller boy flinched, hard enough to jolt the laptop that fell to the floor; there was a resounding thunk (thank god no smash) and maybe for a second Eric saw some indescribable terror spark in his boyfriend’s eye before it was snuffed out and died when the world started moving again.

“Sorry, sir” Adam muttered, having already picked up the laptop and reaching for his jacket. The ‘sir’ habit was something that Eric had not been able to talk Adam out of so it stuck.

There was a low mumble from his father, some kind of disagreement it was hard to tell. It wasn’t until Adam was at the front door tanking his parents and smiling awkwardly at his sisters that Eric really processed what was happening.

Adam was one foot out of the door, face set in a mix of shame and frustration, when Eric made a grab for his hand.

“You don't have to go, ya know?” In the dark of street, lit only by lampposts and the half open door, Adam shrugged.

“You can stay. We didn’t finish the movie. You were liking it, weren’t you” at times like these, not as far and few between as Eric would have hopes, the air grew delicate and voices must be whispers or silent.

Adam looked up and in the moment he was so incredibly human. His eyes were wet and his soldiers slumped in ahalf formed shape of defeat.

“I was stupid. Sorry.” Adam’s voice, gruff and grumbling, seemed to fill the street, which in that moment was the whole world, a frozen snippet of time and space just for them to talk. But their bubble splintered.

Shards of emotion and untapped, unspoken feelings scattered into a kind of abyss only the darkness of a barely lit street and the frosted breath on a particularly bitting night could bring about.

And so the moment faded, Adam left- returning to his mother’s house which now brought less anxiety to Eric thanks to the fact Mr Groff was sleeping in his office rather than lurking in his house waiting for any chance to spew foul words at Adam.

That was forgotten, or at least not mentioned again, until it happened again.

Adam, unsuspecting and in some foreign state of relaxation and to some degree comfort, had freaked out (for lack of a better word) when Mr Hendricks had placed a hand without warning on his shoulder.

The taller boy had been distracted in lesson, his pen resting between his index and middle finger as he stared, half aware, out the window.

His sheet, crumples and forgotten, was unfilled and Mr Hendricks decided that maybe if Adam was to pass the class he must at least take part.

Adam’s reaction was instantaneous, a jerk so violent that his chair went screeching across the lab floor. His shoulders immediately tense, hands raising as if to protect his face, a half formed shield.

The teacher immediately retracted his hand, concern flickering over his face as Adam corrected himself, arms slowly lowering and face regaining an unfazed composure.

It didn’t matter. The whole class had seen, watched as The Adam Groff , elephant cock, headmaster’s son, had a fully body reaction to a gentle touch, a mere clap of a hand.

“Adam, my man,” Mr Hendricks began, his voice seemed a shadow of the usual annoyance it was “would you like to talk after class?”

It was nice, a normal offer of comfort and advice from an adult but this was Adam. A sharp shake of the head from the headmaster’s son and the issue was never brought up again.

16 days later, it was 9 o’clock. Already dark outside and Otis was at Eric’s house, his mum had gone dancing with Maureen Groff, apparently it was something they did on the first Saturday of every month.

Otis was sprawled on the tiny bed, hands clutching onto a controller as he gnawed on lips. He was losing at smash bros... again.

The familiar jingle of Eric’s phone interrupted the game. Eric paused eyes glancing over his phone and halting when he saw the caller ID: Adam. It was rare Adam texted and even rarer he called so he jumped at the opportunity for a little bit of emotional closeness.

Eric pressed the green button, pressing the phone to his ear, ignoring Otis’ glare of disapproval. He did not exactly support Adam and Eric but not enough to do much more than glare or make muttered comments about Adam’s slightly rough edges.

“Eric?” Something was wrong. “C-could I stay at yours tonight... actually never mind this was stupid.”

In the haste to get words out maybe reassurance, maybe rebuttals, probably something in between, his voice game out a jungle of half finished sentences and phrase.

“No- Of course you ca... Otis is here. You okay?” He finished with a breath, a second to regain composure.

“Could you come and get me?”

It was a whole sentence, an actual question. It was said in a voice so weak that Eric might have given in then but he looked over at Otis and the warmth that had settled in his stomach from hanging out with his only friend for what felt like eons.

“Adam-“ Eric began, excuses beginning to form on his tongue, after all he didn’t have to spend every day with his boyfriend.

Then there was a bang on the other line, a door slamming and Adam swore.

“Yeah okay, Eric. Never mind. I’ve got to go. Sorry. See ya tomorrow, right?” Adam’s voice was thick with some undefinable emotion, probably fear, possibly something much deeper.

The heavy beep that signed that Adam had hung up left a rock where warmth had once been in Eric’s stomach. This wasn’t something that could be ignored as some brief flinch or merely odd teenage behaviour.

“I’ve gotta go get Adam, kay?” Otis looked up.

“I’ll come to.” Otis said, his voice heavy and leaving no room for protest.

The both slipped on the jackets and shoes, in silence- both unhappy with the situation.

The bike ride was much the same, silent until they drew to the street that Adam’s house was on.

“You don’t owe him this. You don’t owe him anything. Just because he is unhappy, or miserable doesn’t mean you have to make yourself do this kind of thing. He needs to find an outlet that isn’t you.” Otis had stopped cycling, his foot resting on the pavement. His blue eyes shone with dull lamppost light and determination.

“I know... but something’s up Otis. He needs someone.” Eric too had stopped, eyes refusing to meet those of his friend as his fingers, frozen with cold, fiddled with the strap of his helmet.

The silence returned but it was different now, a kind of tense quiet that fell before a disaster as they walked closer to the Groff’s house and stood at the door.

There wasn’t a car in the driveway, it seemed so incredibly empty that everything else seemed small.

One sharp rap at the door. Then another. Eric found himself to knock so Otis had, pale hands clenched in a fist so tight that it was not dissimilar from the pinched expression on his face.

The door swung open immediately, a resounding thunk as it hit the wall and there Adam was.

His figure took up the doorway, large shoulders and long legs blocking the golden light and heat of the inside. Something was wrong.

Adam’s face was contorted, his left eyebrow furrowed but the right could not, his right eye was swollen- angry and red. Dried blood crusted around his nose that was bent at an odd angle.

One of his arms was grasping the other, right hand clutching left forearm. He was a mess.

“Adam?” Otis was already talking, even whilst Eric’s voice stuck to his throat and refused to let go.

“Do you need to sit down?” Adam shook his head.

“Thought you weren’t coming.” It was a statement, no room for response but it did leave a million questions whirling through Eric’s head as his brain came to life again.

How were they going to get Adam home? Normally he could perch at the end of Eric’s bike but if his arm was broken then that could never happen.

What happened? Adam didn’t get into fights anymore. He didn’t even have anyone to fight now he didn’t go to school.

Who? That one refused to leave, stayed stuck even as he called his Dad for a lift home.

The world was so small. So small compared to that driveway with his friend fussing over his boyfriend’s broken nose and two forgotten bikes stranded on the pavement.

His Dad’s silver car arrived, the older man’s face barely visible through the sheen of the windscreen.

Otis and Eric hauled Adam up, he had been sat on the porch step staring up at the stars as if they may hold the answer for why his life had gone to such utter shit.

The car ride was not silent but there was no noise. No words spoken, or phrases exchanged but Eric’s finger tracing bruise slowly forming on Adam’s eye and Otis’ fiddling with the frayed edges of his jumper said all that needed to be said. This was bad. Not something that could be fixed with arom com or a pizza.

At home sat on the table, Eric’s dad gave a knowing look then left- this was not something he needed to be involved in.

“What happened Adam?” Eric asked as he pressed a damp tea towel to the blood under his nose.

“Got in a fight didn’t I?” He didn’t look up eyes fixed on something imaginary on the floor.

Annoyance bubbled “With who, Adam?” It came out harsher than intended, clipped and short but Eric was tired, tired of the hard part of this half formed relationship they built haphazardly on sand.

The sweet parts, the hand holding, forehead kisses and soft words in the privacy of locked doors, they were rare but so tender that the lurking bitterness almost faded.

“My dad.” It was two words, so soft and grumbled that it could have been missed if the focus hadn’t been 100% on him and his answer.

“Your dad?” Otis chocked “I thought he didn’t live in that house anymore.”

Adam shrugged, his shoulders seemingly bearing every burden in the world, all pain and hate he held with a quickly crumbling facade.

“Still has a key. Mum wanted him to be able to get stiff when he wanted. He came to see her, probably to beg again but it was only me. He didn’t like that. He doesn’t like me.” Adam was stumbling, sentences cut short. By the end tears were running down his cheeks, leaving paths of pale skin and bruised flesh between dried blood.

“Your dad is hateful man.” Otis had his therapy voice on and Eric’s voice found itself free again, as did his body.

Dark fingers clutching onto the grey shirt, an attempt at a hug. A poor attempt. Too desperate and violent, too many emotions flung into one simple action.

“I hate your dad. But I really, really like you Adam. He is shit. You deserve better than that.”

Tears and snot mixed and the three boys breathed once. Eric admired Adam more than the ever had because there is nothing more respectable then being so human. Adam was the most human person, Eric had ever had the pleasure of meeting.


End file.
